


The Volcano Mouth of Zorp

by Nutriyum_Addict



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Awkwardness, Break Up, Episode Related, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7309258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutriyum_Addict/pseuds/Nutriyum_Addict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After The End of the World, Leslie runs into Ben at the store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Volcano Mouth of Zorp

The night after the world doesn't end, Leslie wants ice cream.

Of course, all she has in the freezer is raspberry sorbet (totally Ann's ~~influence~~ fault), but that's not what she wants. And to be honest, she's getting incredibly annoyed about not being able to have what she wants lately.

Like...chocolate ice cream.

It's two in the morning by the time she gets to _Food and Stuff_ (open 24 hours for all of your food and stuff needs), and the store is pretty much deserted.

Although, Leslie half expects Ron to show up in an aisle with industrial tubing and ground beef in his cart, but nope. It's just her in front of the freezer doors looking at the off-brand selection of ice cream. She finally decides on a pint of _Bob and Johnny's Chocolate Chip Cookie Batter_ and is heading for the checkout when she sees a familiar shape up in front of her and to the right.

A distinct Ben-shape with his back turned to her in a pair of jeans that frame his butt so perfectly (and really, she would recognize that ass anywhere--in or out of jeans).

Leslie quickly looks down at her own attire--the baggy but comfy black sweats that make her look kind of sloppy, plus Ben's old _REM_ t-shirt that he'd left at her house one night, and...this is bad. This is very bad.

She'd decided to try and avoid him for a couple of days, to try and give them both some space after losing her mind and driving him to Mick Jagger's run-down gas station last night and then waking Ben up Shauna-less (thank god) this morning. But...here he is and she sort of feels the need to flee.

Well, flee or hug him and kiss him and throw herself on top of him, right by the _Ratz Cracker_ display that he seems so interested in. And, that's probably not a good idea since the romantic part of their relationship is over--although just remembering those words makes her chest feel tight and heavy.

Leslie ducks down the nearest aisle quickly and reaches out to steady herself and--

"OW!"

She pulls her hand away quickly from the stacked up lumber (stupid Stuff) and examines the source of the pain, a huge splinter embedded in the pad of her right index finger.

Leslie frowns and then groans...loudly. She can deal with a lot of things, but a splinter is just not one of those things.

* * * * *

"That's your greatest fear?" Ben asks, blinking sleepily and looking confused, his dark hair all messy and sticking up. "Seriously?"

She nods, pushing some of her own hair behind her ear and stretching forward to kiss his jaw. He's got such a great jaw for such a fascist hardass.

"But I just told you about--"

"I know, I know, a robot invasion. Your thing is more…catastrophic and nerdy, but I really, really hate splinters. I mean...I just..." she shudders. "They're the worst, Ben. I fall apart if I get one. Splinters hurt. And you have to dig them out. You have to make it hurt more, to make it hurt less. Ugh. It's like my worst nightmare."

He smiles. "Alright. I'll keep you safe from splinters. Promise."

Leslie settles against him in her bed, moving over to avoid the mess they made earlier and smiles when his palm rests on her bare lower back. She could probably tell him that one of her most vivid memories of her father is the time she got a splinter embedded in the bottom of her big toe. She'd screamed and cried and carried on while he'd worked gently to get it all out.

She was six? Maybe seven?

Leslie could tell him about that, but she doesn't.

The _Bubble_ is about silly pillow talk, lazy, naked kissing, and post-sex cuddling, not dead fathers. So, she just snuggles closer, all while Ben squeezes her right butt cheek, then circles his fingers lightly across the rounded skin, as Leslie pushes against him.

* * * *

She's in too much pain to try and hide behind anything in _Food and Stuff's_ cluttered aisles. Plus she feels a little faint. Oh fuck. Could she actually faint?

"Leslie?"

Crap. Crap. Crap. Ow. "No. Sorry. It's not me. You're just--"

"I know it's you," Ben assures her, walking closer, stopping in front of her, and staring. Then he frowns. "What happened?"

"Lumber," is all she manages to say, so she just sticks her hand out towards him. Her finger's actually bleeding a little now, so he seems to figure out right away that this is some sort of injury-situation.

"Did you cut--"

"Splinter. Wood."

"Oh," Ben looks around briefly and then pauses to rub his forehead. "Are you okay?"

She nods and feels ridiculous even as she's trying not to cry. Her finger absolutely throbs. And oh god, there's a piece of wood in there that she'll need to dig out and maybe she could call an ambulance on her phone? Or Ann. Maybe Ann could--

"Come on," Ben says, tugging her wrist gently.

He makes a face as he sees her ice cream and then takes the basket, putting it down next to the cracker display, and leads her out of the store.

It's a quick walk to his house--only a couple of blocks and then they're inside the familiar space and Ben is leading her to the bathroom. He sits her down on the closed toilet lid and starts rummaging through the messy medicine cabinet.

"Are you sure you know how to do this? Should we call an ambulance?"

"You don't need an ambulance. And yes, I know how to take out a splinter."

"Are you sure? Maybe Ann--"

Ben turns to look at her, almost looking hurt. "Oh. Do you want to call Ann?"

Does she? Leslie studies Ben, a pair of tweezers in his hand, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol now out on the counter. He looks very tired but concerned and he's staring at her in a way she's missed so, so much--like he cares.

Leslie shakes her head.

"Alright." Ben does something at the counter with the alcohol that she can't quite see and then sits on the edge of the tub and takes her hand. He turns it over and looks at her finger.

"You're fine," he tells her softly. "Just breathe. Close your eyes."

"Okay." She can do that.

"Do you want me to tell you what I'm doing, or just do it?"

"Just do it," she grits out.

It feels like Zorp is burning her flesh off with his volcano mouth and Leslie knows she's whimpering but she can't help it, so she tries to focus on something besides how much this hurts like a motherfucker.

Ben. She opens her eyes and focuses on Ben's face. The tip of his tongue is sticking out just a bit as he concentrates on her finger and she can't stop herself from remembering how his tongue felt brushing against hers. Or how it felt in bed, when he licked against her breasts and nipples.

Or when his mouth was busy and down between her open thighs.

Leslie closes her eyes again and she hears Ben murmur words of encouragement, as she fights the anxiety and pain with memories of him pushing inside her, even as he currently tries to dig something out of her.

There's one more sharp poke in an exceptionally tender spot and she yells, eyes snapping open.

"Fuck you, Ben!" It's a surprised screech and she watches as his eyes widen at her words.

"Um, I--"

"No, no, I'm sorry. Sorry. That was just the pain talking. I don't want to fuck… _oh_."

They look at each other awkwardly for a few seconds and crap he's still holding her hand. Why is he still holding her hand? Now that the poking and prodding seems to be over with, her hand in his feels so good and familiar that she wants to cry again.

Finally, he smiles lightly and pats her thigh. "It's okay. You're okay now. I'm sorry I hurt you."

Leslie nods a couple of times but makes no effort to pull her hand back. "I'm sorry...you hurt me too."

Ben snorts and tugs her hand closer. "I think I got it all. Let's just make sure."

He examines her sore finger for a few more seconds and seems satisfied. He holds her hand over the tub and pours some hydrogen peroxide over the the spot and secures a band-aid around her wound. It's a _Spongebob_ band-aid, which reminds her of his roommates.

"Hey, where are April and Andy?"

He rolls his eyes. "The Grand Canyon. Don't ask."

She doesn't ask. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Ben pauses and then gives her a small smirk. "Nice t-shirt, by the way."

Leslie looks down and remembers what she's wearing. Crap. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"That you were wearing my favorite t-shirt? Nope. Sorry. Noticed that back at _Food and Stuff_."

"Do you want it--"

"Its okay, um, you can keep it."

"I can wash it and give it back to you. It's yours. You should--"

"Keep it," he repeats. "It's fine, Leslie."

Ben stands up and she does too. And yep, the intimacy spell seems to be broken now and it's all awkward again.

"Is your car at the store?"

She nods, following him out of the bathroom.

"I'll walk you back."

"You don't have--"

"Leslie. It's almost three in the morning. I'll walk you back."

"Okay."

He leaves her outside the clear glass doors and turns around to walk back home. She watches until Ben disappears into the darkness and then she goes back inside and gets her ice cream.

And a box of crackers. Maybe she'll leave them on Ben's desk Monday as a thank you.


End file.
